This is my first Mother’s Day without Joe — another milestone in the first year after his death.

I made it through Valentine’s Day, his birthday and our wedding anniversary,  but Mother’s Day is different. I’m not going to go on and on about how happy Joe and I were when we became new parents and how proud our son made us all these years — though it’s all true.

Actually, Mother’s Day calls to mind something I hadn’t thought about in quite a while. Like many husbands, Joe called me “Mom” or, in speaking with our son, “Our Mom.” No matter how many times I reminded him that I was not his mother, it persisted throughout our lives together.

Was his gentle needling Joe’s way of feeling more youthful? Or perhaps making a bride nine years his junior feel “old, old, old,” as I teased in response?

Maybe a little of both, I think.

Either way, the banter was sweet and familiar. I miss it today.